


The Other Bedroom

by Kay (sincere)



Series: A Backwards Courtship [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Fantastic Racism, Jotun!Loki, M/M, Pregnancy, Relationship Negotiation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though it is literally part of Thor's castle -- a castle he grew up in, a castle he is now king of -- and even though Loki doesn't sleep there, Thor is somewhat nervous about entering his queen's bedroom. It turns out that he has every reason to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/gifts).



> A holiday gift for idk my bff [rainfall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall)! Written for the prompt "furnishing the new home" at [cottoncandy_bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org).
> 
> This fic takes place in an AU where Loki is rescued as a baby by a frost giant, instead of by Odin. It contains coerced marriage, cultural foibles, and discussion (although general cluelessness) about intersex Jotun.

For some reason, Thor was nervous about visiting the rooms that had been set aside for his new queen.

There were many ways in which the anxiety was ridiculous. For one thing, it was the castle that he had lived in all his life, the castle that belonged to him now, being in the realm he now ruled, of which he was king. There was nowhere in all Asgard where he did not have the right to enter if he so chose. For another thing, it was hardly as if Loki were overly concerned about privacy. He had settled down in Thor's chambers without a second thought, and spent all his nights there. Thor had learned that he was not shy.

In fact, Loki spent those nights thoroughly and enthusiastically demonstrating that while he might be many things -- shameless, and tempting, and wanton -- no, he was _not_ shy.

Thor stood outside the door to Loki's chambers, lost in a reverie of the hedonistic nights he had spent with his new bride. If Loki's plan was to destroy a thousand years of racial resentment through lascivious acts, it was working well indeed, and Thor would even approve of it happily. But he shook his head for now, casting the thoughts away.

It had come to his attention that while Loki's nights were spent in Thor's chambers, most of his days were spent here, in the rooms he had requested for himself. Thor was growing curious about what he did there -- and, perhaps more relevantly, growing bored with endless political discourse -- so he had come to see for himself.

Only, it was not Loki who came to the door to greet him.

Thor stared at the massive figure of the frost giant, standing just inside the door that would have been slightly too small for him to walk through without ducking. The frost giant stared back, his lined features unmoved, his red eyes flat. He was muscular, clad only in a loincloth, and in the private quarters of Thor's queen.

Thor cleared his throat, and then said, imperiously, "I have come to see Loki."

And the Jotun did not blink. "He is outside," he said, in a voice that was slightly more melodious than rocks scraping together.

He was somewhat mesmerizing. Thor's lips thinned, and he stared at the frost giant a moment longer, taking in his thick blue skin and the scars that marred it, for the first time noting their difference from the raised lines that traced the skin of the giants. Thor had learned that Loki liked to have his stroked, with the flat of a palm and occasionally with the skim of a nail, light. He didn't know what they were for, other than they were somewhat sensitive.

But it was hard not to notice that this creature's lines were different than Loki's. Loki's were rigidly symmetrical, each side a perfect mirror, all straight lines and sharp, geometric angles; this one's were swirling and winding, curved and intricate, and each one different.

And he was not moving, nor leaving, nor speaking. Thor was not about to leave either, and now he only had more of a sense that he did not belong here, making him certain that he would be trespassing if he shoved his way past. So he felt obligated to make conversation instead.

"Your -- markings," Thor said, waving vaguely to indicate his chest. "They are very different from Loki's."

The frost giant's red gaze flickered behind him, to the Einherjar stationed warily in the hallway across from Loki's room. "Your nose is very different from his."

Thor frowned, also glancing at the guard. The man's nose was, in fact, quite pronounced, flat at the bridge. He turned back, and agreed, "Well, yes. We are not related. There is no reason we should have similar features..."

The Jotun shrugged, unimpressed, and said nothing.

_Ah._ Helpful, in the extremely abstract, although also embarrassing and awkward. The frost giant's behavior was starting to wear on Thor's limited reserves of patience. "Why don't you tell me what they are _for_ , then," he demanded irritably.

A short sound from the giant had Thor even more defensive. It sounded like it might have been amusement -- a bark of laughter -- but he could not have been sure. "They are for sensing disturbances in the wind and air," he said, simply. His lips curve up. "You will never be able to sneak up on him, you know."

Thor's eyes narrowed.

"You would be well-advised not to even try," the Jotun told him, his tone low.

It sounded like a threat. Thor's hesitation was gone, his discomfort evaporated, and he shifted, prepared to reach for Mjolnir's familiar weight at his side, before Loki's voice sliced through his distraction effortlessly.

"My lord Thor," he said, stepping into the room from the balcony. He left the doors wide open, though it was still early spring and they let in a chilly draft. Loki was dressed in his ornate gold loincloth and little else, and he was -- perhaps unsurprisingly -- not bothered by the cold. "What an unexpected pleasure, to see you here. And I see you have met Angrboda."

"Angrboda?" Thor gave the Jotun a hard, unforgiving look. "Is that his name? He was not so forthcoming."

Angrboda smiled, baring his teeth. The urge to strike him in his smug mouth with the hammer was still almost unbearably strong, but Loki slid neatly between them, tucking his hands into Thor's, making it difficult to reach for Mjolnir. Thor let his eyes fall to Loki. After only three weeks he already seemed to be more ethereal than alien, his curved jaw and high cheekbones and sloping brow all refined, the hallmarks of beauty. The sight of him was almost soothing, becoming familiar.

Thor did not trust him, no. But he was Thor's partner, nonetheless, and so far that had proven him in good stead.

"He is not terribly forthcoming, it's true," Loki agreed, lips curved up. He seemed so relaxed and comfortable, it was almost contagious; Thor felt some of the tension easing out of him. "But Angrboda is the one who taught me -- why, almost everything I know about Asgard's ways. He is quite knowledgable, if you can get him to give a straight answer."

Thor glanced up at Angrboda again, grudgingly reconsidering his initial impression. He had simply assumed that Angrboda was snide and unhelpful the way that all Jotun were, and it was strange to think of that as being traits of an individual personality rather than a cultural, _racial_ tendency.

"Have you traveled to Asgard so often in the past, then?" Thor made himself ask.

Angrboda chuckled, low. "Everywhere," he said.

Why did everything he say sound so _dangerous_? Thor wondered mistrustfully, eyeing him, until Loki drew him past Angrboda into the room.

"Is this a social call?" Loki asked, idly. His eyes lidded, and he cast a glance over his shoulder at Thor. "Are you tired of our bed -- and our wall, and our floor -- and seeking new places to enjoy ourselves?"

An intriguing, scandalous suggestion, although Thor was intensely aware of Angrboda behind them, perhaps far enough away to not have heard, but perhaps still in earshot. He opened his mouth to begin to say one thing, and instead what came out of his mouth was a dumbstruck, "What have you done to the room?"

These quarters had once been Asgard's most lavish guest chambers, afforded only to the highest-ranking of visitors, kings and queens of other realms who found the time to visit Asgard for a summit or a negotiation. Sprawling and elegant, with the richest of furnishings and the most beautiful of tapestries, it was an honor even to be permitted within it. Thor had gotten in endless trouble as a very young child tumbling into this room while playing, because rambunctious children carrying filth and sweat were strictly disallowed.

Now that he had a better look of the interior, he realized that Loki had dismantled it entirely. The beautiful tapestries had been taken down from the walls, leaving them bare, and the furnishings had been mostly removed, chairs and tables all but gone and replaced with larger, foreign decorations, and the bed obscured with a pile of fur and cloth and pillow that almost doubled the original height of it.

If he was not mistaken, it was also a few degrees colder inside the room than it had been outside it.

"Is that-- Is that the wall-hanging on the bed?!" he demanded, and even knowing that Loki did not sleep here, he had a sudden vision of the little frost giant sleeping atop the priceless antique fabric. Or the _not_ so little frost giant who had greeted him at the door, and therefore must sleep somewhere.

Loki glanced at it, and said, thoughtful, "Yes, I think it was originally on the wall."

"Then why is it now on the bed!"

Patiently, Loki explained, "The architecture should be allowed to speak for itself. You have no need to hide it. The room is more appealing and looks bigger without it."

Thor stared at him, blankly. He was interested in -- the architecture? It slowly crossed his mind that perhaps this was a cultural misunderstanding, that Loki had different expectations of beauty than he did, but then the notion fled again. He didn't have to _desecrate_ the wall-hangings to fix their presence in the room!

"They are not meant to be used as blankets," he said stiffly. "They wouldn't even keep you _warm_."

"This may shock you, my lord, but I am not interested in them for the warmth they provide." Loki looked amused. "I want them for the nest. They're very stiff and provide excellent structure." Then, while Thor still felt paralyzed, he added, "Perhaps I should explain -- my people are not attached to beds the way you Asgardians are. We do not need soft mattresses or flat surfaces, but we do require thorough coverage. I thought I heard you speaking to Angrboda about our markings?"

Thor frowned, glancing at the narrow lines that traced Loki's skin. "I believe I mentioned that he was not forthcoming," he said, grudgingly. 

Loki's lips curved up. "They are a sensory organ. I can read the air, provided these are bared to it. If I am not well-protected from the air, I will sleep fitfully, as if there were hours of conversation going on directly beside you while you rested. So we burrow and build nests: with walls to provide a barrier to wind, and thick coverings all around, and wrapped up to keep us sheltered."

So there was a method to his blanket-stealing. And then Thor said, further understanding dawning on him, "That is why you have refused requests to dress more modestly." Many attendants were somewhat discomfited by their queen wandering about Asgard in a heavy, decorated scrap of leather, but Loki had always refused shirt and trousers. Now Thor realized that they would cover his markings, almost all of which decorated his shoulders, arms, chest, back and thighs; then he would not be able to sense the... air, whatever that truly meant.

Loki bared his teeth in a grin. "I tell them I will wear Asgardian clothes when Asgardians wear blindfolds about."

Thor cast another glance at the room. It seemed less of an offense, now that he could understand the reason behind what had been done to the bed. Thor rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the tangled pile and wondering if perhaps a few alterations to his own chambers might be in order, since Loki spent the majority of his nights there.

The other changes made sense, as well. The small chairs and tables that had been in the room originally would not have accommodated frost giant guests and friends very well. 

"Thank you for taking the time to tell me," Thor said, nodding his head, feeling better about this. It had seemed bizarre and aggravating at first, but now he saw it for what it was: a learning experience. Still feeling out the territory with his new spouse, learning what he was like and what he believed and what he desired. Nothing but good. "I will keep that in mind."

"My considerate lord," Loki murmured in acknowledgment, his tone too sweet, one that he used whenever he was needling Thor for his grandiose generosity. Thor always overlooked it... generously.

"That -- Angrboda," Thor said, clearing his throat. He looked back at the door, but Angrboda had slipped away, leaving it shut behind him. They were alone now. "How long will he be staying here?"

Loki chuckled. "Oh, forever, I imagine."

_Forever?_ Thor scowled. That had not been part of his expectations. He understood a small retainer while Loki was still adjusting to life in Asgard; perhaps Laufey's insurance that he was not being mistreated and that he would have the respect that his status demanded. Both things that, as far as Thor was concerned, Loki was entitled to, and Laufey was entitled to know. But to have a massive frost giant tromping around shining Asgard after its queen like a pet troll?

"Burkhart will leave when it becomes summer," Loki said agreeably. "You haven't met him, but he is here as well. Angrboda is my personal manservant, and he will stay by my side unless it grows too hot for his comfort, and then he will return when the weather cools again." He tilted his head to the side, studying Thor's face. "Does that bother you?"

Thor composed his thoughts before saying only, "Are you so dissatisfied with the servants we have here in Asgard? If you tell me what it is that you need, I will see to it that they provide it. You do not need to keep a Jotun warrior here to do it for you."

Loki smiled, shaking his head. " _Need_ to? No. But I am more comfortable with him here."

The hot flare that he felt was some emotion that Thor did not quite recognize, and hadn't felt in a long time. He protested, "I want you to be comfortable with my people, with your life in Asgard! How can you do that when you surround yourself with all that reminds you of Jotunheim?"

"You would have me be alone here, without any of my own kind? To bear your child, surrounded only by people who do not even know how such a thing is possible, much less how to help me through it?" Loki pressed.

A dirty tactic, to bring up a child as if it were all for the sake of bearing Thor an heir. A child had been the furthest thing on Thor's mind before this marriage became an issue, and now he found that the idea flustered him.

Not least because he still did not know how such a thing would be possible. Intimate encounters with Loki had very definitively proven him male, though he was always quick to point out that it was not yet his fertile time. Thor did not like to think on it.

"Of course not," he muttered, and then turned on his heel, stalking to the bed and sinking down to seat himself on the edge as best he could, piled as it was with fur and tapestry. He ran a hand through his hair.

He didn't like this. A frost giant warrior, living under his roof, with his blessing, utterly trusted with his queen's well-being, even to the point of helping him through the birth of Thor's child, the way that Thor was not and could not. The way Loki turned his very home into a refuge of his barren, iced-over world. How easy it would be for all this to mask something more sinister, something more angering. It forced him to doubt where only an hour ago he had held in him nothing but good memories of the fun Loki had given him in his bed.

But the moment he was out of Thor's sight... And it made him feel like he was being manipulated into compliance, as he had feared but not allowed himself to consider before.

"You are out of sorts, Thor," Loki observed, sinking onto the bed beside his husband. "I know that these are things you were not expecting, and find strange. But I did not think they would truly upset you."

He sounded as if he were trying to be reasonable, which made Thor feel like his surprise was not reasonable. He said, crossly, "Perhaps if they were explained to me before I discovered them by accident, they would not upset me so much!"

Loki barely blinked, only conceding, "Perhaps they would not." He lifted his head, gazing off into the distance. "You seem to have little understanding of what I have sacrificed, what I have lost, to come here."

That took the wind out of Thor's sails quickly. "You know I do not mean to make this more difficult for you," he murmured.

"If taking down the tapestry is such a slight, I will give it back, and you may hang it elsewhere."

"I care not for the tapestry."

"Angrboda is the only one I may ever see again, of all who I grew up with and cared for."

"I was only startled to learn that he would become a permanent member of my court."

" _Change_ is not accomplished in a month," Loki finished, looking up at him. "I do not grow angry with you when I must explain why I might wish to have a nest available if my sleep becomes too restless. I know that you cannot be an expert on my people in mere weeks. But are you giving me the same patience? Do I not deserve it?"

Thor felt the regret creeping up on him. Perhaps his repeated surprise and indignation had seemed to Loki to be a rejection; perhaps, in a way, it had been. But it had not been his intention. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I will try to be more tolerant. I am not... used to this."

It was the smallest admission he could get away with, and still he felt exposed; that tiny core of him that feared that perhaps he was not wise enough to follow in his father's footsteps, that perhaps he would make mistakes and misjudgments -- ones that might cost Asgard dearly. It was a possibility that ate at him under his skin, but which he never acknowledged, even only to himself.

Loki shifted closer, catching his attention and then lifting a hand to stroke his jaw, trailing fingers over his beard. "You are my mate. And so long as I know that you will always try to do what you believe is best for _us_ , you will always be forgiven."

Perhaps it was all a manipulation. Perhaps it was just another way of getting under his skin, of making Thor pliable to his moods and his wishes, the same way the willing, wanton sex was all to win a benevolence he might not have merited on his own.

But Thor imagined that he saw sincerity, lurking in the depths of those red eyes, in the softness about the lines of his face.

And he wanted to believe that.

He turned his head and kissed those fingers, smiling. "I could not ask for more faith."

And then Loki took a grip on the collar of his tunic, tugging him closer, starting to lean back atop the bed -- the nest, as he called it. "Then reward that faith," the Jotun purred. "Let us enjoy ourselves."

Right on top of the priceless tapestry.


End file.
